Page 17 of Ugly Duckling (Content Advisory #6)

Eleven

Today we’re going to stay hydrated and ignore people who give us high blood pressure.

—Sutton’s secret thoughts

SUTTON

I was exhausted, but exhausted in a good way.

“Do you need anything else from me?” the mortician for Downs Funeral Home asked.

“Nope,” I answered as I set out my boxes. “Thank you.”

She touched my shoulder before she headed out of the room.

“All right, Lucina,” I said softly. “Let’s get down to business. What’s your favorite color?”

She thankfully didn’t answer me, but based on her funeral outfit, and the red pendant she was wearing around her neck, I chose to believe that it was red.

I went with the fire engine red that seemed to be the most popular lately and started to do my work.

By the time I was done, her fingers shone.

I snapped a quick picture and sent it to Lucina’s daughter, then started packing my things away again.

My phone beeped with an incoming call, and I answered it absently as I finished closing up my Caboodle.

“Hello?” I answered.

I really should’ve checked the caller ID, because my ex-husband’s voice was really grating as he said, “I’ve been trying to call you for a week, and you haven’t answered.”

I sighed and tucked my Caboodle underneath my arm before waving at the funeral director who’d shown me back in the first place. “Can I move to the next one?”

The funeral director nodded, but didn’t get out of her seat.

I chose to think that I had permission to move to the next room—they were each set up in opposite viewing rooms across the building from each other—and did just that as I said, “I don’t want to talk to you. You should’ve taken the hint.”

“It’s important,” he grumbled. “I have something to ask you.”

I found a seat near the sound desk and tugged it over to the coffin.

This client wasn’t an old woman, though.

This client was young, maybe twenty-three or twenty-four.

She’d died in a car accident, and the family wanted her in a full set of nails befitting her usual style. They’d even sent me her Instagram where I’d taken inspiration for the set of nails I planned on doing for her.

“What is it?” I grumbled. “I’m working and I’m a little busy right now.”

Someone whispered in the background, and Jackson cursed under his breath. “I wanted to ask you if it would be possible for me to get some of the sperm back that I let you have with the divorce.”

I burst out laughing. “Absolutely fucking not.”

There was a long pause and then Jackson said, “I knew you were going to be unreasonable about this.”

“Unreasonable?” I asked carefully. “You think I’m unreasonable?

You wouldn’t even think about me getting the car I’ve been driving because, as you put it, you’re the one that was having to make all the payments on it.

Because I was ‘living off your back’ and couldn’t ‘afford to pay for it. And you didn’t want your credit ruined. ’”

“So?” he sneered.

“So, I’ve been very nice. I let you have the cars.

I let you have the house. I let you have everything, and you so helpfully allowed me to have your sperm,” I said.

“So no, I won’t share it with you. In fact, as of last week, I stopped paying the monthly stipend to keep it on ice.

It is set to be destroyed. Tomorrow, actually.

So unless you can get an emergency injunction, you’ll never have it. ”

There were some raised voices on the line after that, but I hung up before he could really get going.

I went ahead and turned my phone on silent and got back to work, really going above and beyond for my young client.

I was so involved with what I was doing that I had no clue anyone was even in the room with me until a deep, low voice said, “Sutton?”

I looked up to find a familiar looking club president standing behind me.

My heart sank. “Please tell me this young girl isn’t related to you in any way.”

“She’s not.” He smiled softly. “She’s actually an employee’s little sister. I offered to pay for her service.”

I slumped. “Oh, that’s good.”

He gestured toward the girl’s fingers. “Whatcha doing?”

I explained what I was doing, and he looked quite shocked. “Do you work on live people still?”

“Not usually, no,” I admitted. “The dead ones really keep me busy, and they’re easier to work with because they don’t expect you to hold conversations with them.”

“I can see that.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “So you moved in with Gunner?”

“I did,” I confirmed as I sat back in my chair to admire my work. “Why?”

“Just wondering.” He moved to inspect my work as well. “This is nice.”

“Thank you,” I said softly. “I’m glad that I got to do her nails for the last time. She was a gorgeous girl.”

“She was pretty great,” he said. “You headed home now?”

“Actually, no. I’m headed to Gunner’s job site because I need to get a garage door opener from him and he forgot to leave it this morning. He said that he was going to give me the code to get into the house, but the Wi-Fi was out when I left, and he doesn’t think that the gates will work.”

“What a pain in the ass,” he murmured. “I’ll meet you there. He has a key I need to pick up.”

We walked out of the funeral parlor, and I waved at the front desk lady to let her know I was leaving. She waved back, and I pushed out into the freezing cold moments later.

I shivered, and Webber looked over at me with a frown.

“You’re cold?”

I nodded, shivering again. “It’s freezing. And, saying this with absolutely no vanity on my end, I have a really low body fat percentage. When you have a low body fat percentage, you tend to freeze like I do. Even in mid-fifty degrees.”

“I think I have a sweatshirt in my saddlebags,” he murmured as he walked up to it and started rooting around.

I shivered again.

“Just make sure you give it back, or my wife might hate you for the rest of her life.”

“Is it hers?” I asked as I quickly shrugged it on.

Sometime in between the time I arrived at the funeral home, and the time that I left, it’d dropped fifteen degrees. With the wind blowing, it felt downright frigid.

“It’s mine, which also makes it hers.” He laughed. “Between her and Eedie, I barely have a sweatshirt to my name.”

“Eedie’s sweet,” I said. “She works with Audric, right?”

“Correct.” He mounted his bike. “See you there.”

I saw him at the school that Gunner was working at forty-five minutes later.

“Want to test the security?” he asked as I pulled up beside him and got out.

I looked up at the fortress and said, “I’m not sure we can get in.”

The kids were out of school today because there wasn’t a single soul in the parking lot other than the work trucks that were labeled as Angel Security.

All the gates and doors were closed, and I wasn’t even sure where I needed to go in to park for real.

We’d stopped in the middle of the street practically nearest a gate that was closest to the Gunner’s work truck.

“Thinking this’ll work really well.” Webber flashed me a grin. “Pick a place that you think you can get in and go with it.”

I looked up at the eight-foot-tall chain-link fence.

“I haven’t climbed a fence since I was a kid,” I murmured. “And even then, I jumped over and got my shorts stuck on the chain links, and Gunner had to physically lift me off of them because I couldn’t do it myself.”

Webber chuckled, and it made the man seem a whole lot less scary than he actually was.

But his eyes. Those eyes always told a different story.

He could laugh and seem approachable all he wanted, but those eyes told the truth.

He was dangerous.

“Come on, and I’ll give you a boost up on the side of the building over there. See that window?” he asked.

I did.

“Yeah.” I nodded.

“You can fit through there.”